


Looking So Lost

by DefaltManifesto



Series: And We Run [6]
Category: inFAMOUS (Video Games), inFAMOUS: Second Son
Genre: Activism, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Personal Growth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Recovery, Rimming, Solitary Confinement, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:24:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: Nothing happened, but Delsin can't shake the feeling that something did because he's not alright.





	Looking So Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SublimeDiscordance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/gifts).



> Title from Cargo by Data Romance
> 
> We're almost done kids! Don't fret about the loose ends in this piece - they'll be picked up and dealt with in the final fic which will be from Eugene's perspective (and feature a lot more smut). Comments are loved.
> 
> Gifted to SublimeDiscordance for being a fantastic writing buddy this weekend.

Delsin steps out of the shower and barely manages to dry himself off before stumbling into the main living space of Eugene’s hideout. He’d spent the day out on the land he and Eugene had purchased just outside of the reservation where they were building new cabins, one for them and one for Fetch and Kuo. Every inch of his body ached as he struggled to keep up with the contractors they’d hired. He flops down on the bed next to Eugene, face buried in the pillow.

“Hey,” Eugene says. “Long day at work honey?”

Delsin smacks his thigh, but he smiles into the pillow when Eugene laughs. “I didn’t realize how hard this sort of work would be.”

“Honest work?”

Delsin pinches him this time, earning a yelp. “No, it’s just repetitive. Fighting Conduits is one thing but hauling wood and hammering and all that is just…” He lets out an exaggerated groan.

“Eye on the prize.”

Eugene has a point. Delsin’s whole goal was to build a nice sized cabin for himself and Eugene and one for Fetch and Kuo when they return from their new job. Building a house in theory seemed great. Building one for real was…harder. And boring. Of course, the long-term goal was to eventually create a community for Conduits to come to it they wanted to live free of persecution but that was going to take a hell of a lot more money if they were actually going to realize it. There was only so much Eugene could wire from illegal drug lord accounts without someone getting suspicious at how Delsin could afford things without an actual job.

“You already asleep?” Eugene asks. There’s the distinct sound of his laptop moving off the bed and then his fingers trail down Delsin’s bare back.

Delsin arches into the touch and turns his head. He blinks up at Eugene with sleepy eyes, biting his lip when Eugene’s fingers move to his ass and then slide back up, feather light.

“I can stay awake a little longer,” he says.   

There’s a rustle of fabric as Eugene shifts and then straddles the backs of Delsin’s thighs. The cold corner of his glasses makes Delsin shiver when it brushes the side of his neck as Eugene kisses his shoulder before scraping it with his teeth. Eugene’s still not comfortable being rough with him yet, but he likes to bite. Delsin takes what he can get. One day, Eugene will tell him where all the hesitancy comes from, but for now he has this.

Eugene leaves soft bites all the way down his back. Delsin’s hands twist in the sheets as he stops near his tailbone and sucks, pain blossoming and sending a bolt of pleasure straight to his cock. Eugene pulls back all at once, leaving Delsin gasping. He lays still as Eugene moves around, dropping his glasses on the nightstand and then grabbing a spare pillow to wedge underneath him, tilting his ass up. For a brief second, Delsin wonders if Eugene’s finally going to fuck him before he remembers how Eugene said he’d let him know in advance before he tried so they could talk it out.

He doesn’t get a chance to be disappointed though. The next moment, Eugene’s parting his cheeks and licking firmly over his hole. Delsin grinds shamelessly down into pillow as his dick spasms and drools out more pre-come before pushing up towards Eugene. Eugene’s fingers bite into the meat of his ass and hold him down. The spark of control makes Delsin moan. He stays still as Eugene works, save for the way his hips twist and jerk to get some friction on the pillow. He keeps expecting Eugene to give him fingers, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he tugs at Delsin’s rim so he can push his tongue deep. Before long, spit drips down onto Delsin’s balls, the whole experience making his gut twist with something like humiliation but he likes it. He wants more of it but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to push when he’s tired and just wants to have Eugene drive the last bit of tension from him. With the way the dry fabric of the pillow drags against his cock, it isn’t long before his dick starts to ache. It doesn’t stop him from grinding against the pillow with the tiny bit of leverage he has under Eugene’s grip.

Eugene pulls away and Delsin almost reaches back to yank him back in. He’s being a fucking tease. Delsin likes when Eugene’s fingers him rough and fast, massaging his prostate and making him come embarrassingly quick.  The light pressure of his tongue isn’t close to enough, and now he doesn’t even have that.

“You really are desperate,” Eugene says, and he sounds curious more than anything.

“Yeah, because I want to come,” Delsin gripes.

"I know, and you will,” Eugene says. “How do you want to?”

The question surprises him. “Huh?”

“I just…it should be good for you. How do you want it?” Eugene asks, hand trailing down to cup his ass with a gentle touch.

Delsin thinks. He wants the thrill of the humiliation but he’s not sure if Eugene is ready for that and he doesn’t want Eugene to feel pressured. But Eugene was asking, knowing where Delsin’s thoughts often strayed.

“Can I rub off on you?” he asks, face half turning into the pillow.

Eugene’s form buzzes behind him and the smell of ozone permeates the air. “Yeah, yeah we can do that.”

Which is how Delsin ends up in Eugene’s lap, grinding against his bare stomach as he bites at Eugene’s neck. Eugene’s hands cup his ass, urging him on. He can feel Eugene’s arousal through his jeans, but Eugene never lets him slump down enough to press down on it. Denying him that way just makes it better.

When he does come, it’s almost painful in the relief it brings. He sags into Eugene’s smaller form, completely relaxed and useless as small tremors shake him and Eugene’s hands pet down his back. The moment of stillness doesn’t last long though. Eugene pushes him down onto his back and straddle his hips as he works open his fly and pulls his dick out. Delsin smiles up at him, oddly content, as he jerks his cock twice and then adds to the mess on Delsin’s stomach with his own come. There’s a possessive look in Eugene’s eyes as he drinks in the sight of Delsin beneath him. Distantly, Delsin just wishes he would act on it already.

“I’m not taking another shower so you better clean me up,” Delsin says, brain still fuzzed from almost sinking down into subspace.

Eugene grabs Delsin’s discarded shirt from earlier and wipes up the cone before flopping down next to him. “I’ll do laundry tomorrow.”

“You better,” Delsin says.

He falls asleep before Eugene responds.

 

-.-

           

The next day, Delsin’s back to sweating his dick off as he helps haul in cabinets to start nailing to the wall. He’s not all that handy with tools, but he’s good at going where people tell him, at least with this kind of work. He doesn’t like to think that he’s mellowed out so much he isn’t a leader anymore. He hadn’t used a hammer more than twice before a few weeks ago.

When his phone starts to ring, he ignores it. Betty still has a habit of calling at inopportune times after all. The next time it rings, he groans and glances at Tyrone who’s using the drill to get the cabinet attached. He rolls his eyes and jerks his head.

“Go on, I’ll wait,” he says.

Delsin dashes away from all the noise and pulls out his phone, surprised to see it’s Eugene. “Hey man what’s-“

“Delsin, it’s…there’s a Conduit. He blew up his school’s gymnasium,” Eugene says, voice shaking.

“Shit. What’s happening?”

“TV crews, police, and a call was put in to the National Guard. The whole area is on lock down,” Eugene says. “No injuries though.”

“Fuck, you have to get there.”

“What? No! I…”

Delsin clenches his fist, dull nails biting into his palms to stop himself from getting angry. “I’ll get there as fast as I can, but you’ve gotta do something if they try and kill that kid alright?”

“Right…I will.”

Delsin hangs up and jogs back to Tyrone. “I’ve gotta go. Hopefully I’ll be back.”

"Yeah, yeah. You need my tablet? You’ll travel a hell of a lot faster,” Tyrone says.

"That would…thanks.”

“No problem, man. Go do whatever it is you do when you’re not sucking at construction,” Tyrone says with a teasing grin.

Delsin heads for Tyrone’s truck and finds his tablet in the front passenger seat and sinks his hand into the screen, sucking up data through the connection it has with his mobile provider. It’s not much, but it gets him airborne. Flying with Eugene’s angel wings is always weird for him. He avoids it when he can but nothing will get him to Seattle faster. Unlike Eugene, he never figured out how to travel through Wi-Fi connections and satellites, or maybe he never would be able to unless he magically got his hands on another blast core.

He just hopes Eugene gets it together and gets there first.

While the overall attitude towards Conduits had improved with their release from Curdun Cay and after he, Fetch, and Kuo turned themselves in, there still wasn’t any uniformity to how the police dealt with situations like these and it had been weeks since the last emerging Conduit lost control of their powers. That had been in Jackson, Wyoming. The kid, a boy named Michael, had set fire to his backyard playset when the neighbor’s dog had lunged at him. He’d been taken in by the government for assessment.

Blowing up a school gym is a lot more than just setting fire to a playset. Plus, if the kid was scared and surrounded, who knew what they would do? His phone pings with the location from Eugene and he banks to the right, heading for a school in one of the poorer neighborhoods of Seattle. It isn’t long before he can see the billowing black smoke and hear the sirens. A helicopter approaches from his left, the news channel logo visible even from the distance he’s at.

Delsin pulls up and then lets himself drop on the ground between a police car and a fire truck. It’s mostly chaos and it buys him time to take in his surroundings. There’s four fire trucks spraying down the flames with water, and a parameter has been set up around the whole rundown building.

“Sir, you can’t be here,” a cop says, grabbing his shoulder and making him turn. He stops when he looks at Delsin’s face. “On second thought…” He turns his head to the radio on his shoulder. “Chief, we’ve got Delsin Rowe here. Should I bring him to you?”

If he gets a response, Delsin doesn’t here it because the ground shakes as the blackened wood of the roof caves in and crashes to the ground. The cop grabs his arm and drags him through barricade towards a large vehicle much like the one’s Augustine’s teams of fake Conduits would patrol the city in. The back is open, revealing the chief and several others standing in front of a small row of monitors.

“Hey,” Delsin says as he approaches the vehicle.

“Name’s Jeff. I’m probably violating a ton of codes here, but can you get in that building safely and locate the suspect?” the chief asks. He’s a balding man, a sheen of sweat on his head from the burning fire.

“Depends on what you plan on doing with them,” Delsin says.

“Well I don’t fucking know the answer to that,” Jeff says, glaring at him. “All I know is I don’t want to risk my men in there when we don’t know what kind of powers it has or if all this was intentional or not.”

Anger rises in Delsin’s chest hot but he shoves it down. “What’s the kid’s name?”

"Laquan Johnson,” Jeff says. “Just get him out.”

“Right.” Delsin steps away from the truck. “I’m holding you to that by the way. I’m not violating any laws right? Nothing you’re gonna charge me for?”

“I won’t charge you, now go.”

Delsin glances around, then reaches out a hand. It takes a second of concentration for the billowing black smoke to stream into his hand, soaking into his body and clearing the air of ash. He doesn’t waste any time, letting his own form turn to smoke before vanishing through one of the vents. When he remerges, his mouth tastes like he’s inhaled years of burnt dust. The classroom he’s in feels hot, but it’s not too bad. The gym must be located further away.

His phone rings and he answers it as he heads into the hall. “Eugene, tell me you got something.”

“He’s in a classroom at the other end of the school, room 113,” Eugene says. “I’ve disrupted the data around here so no one’s getting any video of anything, except for me anyways.”

“Good, thanks.” Delsin jogs down the hall, following the signs as he goes. “How long have you been here?”

“Since before you. No one knows me, Delsin. I can’t just waltz in and save someone and have it be okay.”

"Yeah, I know.” Delsin gets it, he does. He just wishes Eugene would come back out of his shell again instead of staying in the emotional and physical hole he’d stuffed himself in while the rest of them had been in prison.

He hangs up when he reaches the door for classroom 113. A quick peak through the window doesn’t show anything so he knocks, loud and obnoxious.

 “Hey kid, Laquan right?” Delsin calls.

“Go away!”

“Yeah, can’t do that,” Delsin says. “You’re not in trouble.”

"I always am!”

Delsin sighs. He understands that feeling too. The amount of times he’d gotten in trouble in school was well…not countable. At some point, it stopped being something that happened on accident and started just being what he did because that was what was expected of him.

“Me too,” he says. “Look, I’m gonna come in and we can talk, alright? I’m not going to make you go anywhere.”

There’s a lot of silence in response. Just when Delsin’s about to say fuck it and open the door anyways, Laquan speaks up.

“Fine.”

Delsin breathes a sigh of relief and opens the door. He finds Laquan huddled behind the teacher’s desk, arms wrapped around his legs and chin on his knees. His hair is pulled back in a fluffy ponytail and it looks like if he let it out the resulting hairstyle would make him a few inches taller. He’s wearing jeans and the remains of a shirt. It’s mostly rags now, singed and black.

“Hey,” Delsin says, sitting across from him. “So you blew up a gym.”

Laquan glares. “Didn’t mean to.”

“Hey man, if I could’ve managed that at your age I would’ve,” Delsin says. “I only managed to set this one guy’s locker on fire. He was a total douche.”

“Did that too,” Laquan says. “But this is…I didn’t _mean_ to.”

“It’s cool,” Delsin says. “I believe you. You known about your powers long?”

Laquan shakes his head, tears coming all at once and streaming down his face. “I didn’t know. Ma said it wouldn’t happen to me.”

“Why’d she say that?”

“She said I already caused enough trouble, didn’t need extra help,” Laquan says between halted breaths.

“Sounds like my brother,” Delsin says. “Look…no one was hurt. Everyone got out before the fire really got going. You think you can go out there?”

Laquan shakes his head again. “Can’t.”

“Why not?” Delsin asks.

"Cops will shoot me,” he says, eyes going apathetic. “I’m dangerous.”

“No, you’re not,” Delsin says. “You know who I am?”

Laquan looks up again, tilting his head to the side. “You’re Delsin. My brother talks about you a lot.”

“And I have powers and the cops don’t shoot me,” Delsin says. “Well, not anymore.  And I’m not gonna let them shoot you either.”

“Cops don’t want to shoot you though,” Laquan says.

“Cops don’t like Native people either,” Delsin says. “But this isn’t about that, alright? I get why you’re scared and I’m gonna protect you. Your power is what, fire?”

Laquan nods.

“Well I absorb smoke and fire,” Delsin says. “If you get scared, I won’t let you hurt anyone on accident, okay? And I’ll stay between you and them until you’re comfortable, can we do that?”

“Alright.” Laquan seems surer now that he knows he can’t hurt anyone on accident.

Laquan holds his hand the whole way out.

 

-.-

 

The whole thing makes the news. Laquan goes home with his family as the authorities decide what, if any, charges they’ll pursue. Conduit rights groups amass the money necessary to repair the damage done to the school within three days and by that point Delsin has already put Laquan’s mom, Keyara, in touch with the lawyer who worked with them back when they had been on trial.

“She’s a good woman, that Elena,” Betty says as she sets the table. “You did a good thing, going in there and saving that boy. Goodness knows what would have happened.”

“Michael is still being held,” Eugene says. “The FBI has him. It’ll be a miracle if they don’t come for Laquan.”

“Elena will keep him safe,” Delsin says. “And she’s the best chance for both of them- getting out and staying out. I just can’t believe something like this didn’t happen sooner.”

“It has,” Eugene says. “The FBI picked them all up. Michael was just the first one to get publicized.”

The words take Delsin by surprise. Yeah, he wanted to settle down, but he didn’t think Eugene would hide something that important from him.

“Don’t look so surprised, Delsin,” Betty says as she sits down. “You did good work. But change doesn’t happen quickly, especially when it comes to government control of media. Newspaper articles painted us as savages for hundreds of years and catered to the fear of the other until we were stripped of our culture and livelihood. It happened with slavery too, and in the 60s, and again and again. The media is the source of government power. Always has been, always will be.”

“So what do we do?” Delsin asks. “You of all people aren’t helpless, Betty.”

“Of course not,” she says sharply. “I’m just trying to make you be realistic. Grand feats cause a lot of social change all at once very quickly, but the momentum never lasts. It’s what you do after that matters.”

"We were going to stay out of it,” Eugene says. “I mean, we’ve already given a lot, right?”

“I’m not saying you have to do more,” Betty says. “If it were me I’d say to hell with it and let the world figure it out, but perhaps I’ve gotten cynical in my old age.”

“It just feels wrong not to do anything,” Delsin says. “Like we’re watching Curdun Cay happen all over again, except this time it’s kept quiet.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Eugene says. “It’s public knowledge that those kids got taken in. If you say something, the media will have to too. They can’t just ignore what you have to say, not after being in the spotlight as long as you have and especially not when everyone wants to hear from you again.”

“It’s not fighting,” Betty says. “It’s activism, which is much harder.  You can’t break the law. You have to know when to hold your tongue. Messy business. I never liked it much.”

Delsin smiles. “Yeah, that’s not really in your nature is it?”

“It’s not in yours either,” Betty says with a raised eyebrow. “You can do something, just not the way you did before. It’s something to keep in mind.”

Delsin stares down at his plate, thinking over the words. On some level, he’s disappointed. He doesn’t know where his sense of adventure went. When Augustine had tortured the Akomish, rage had propelled him to conquer Seattle just as sorrow had morphed into the impotent rage that had propelled him to commit petty crimes and be a general nuisance to Reggie. Before Seattle, his rage hadn’t had a focus. Now…now he doesn’t have that. Instead, it’s something softer. He’s angry at the injustice but the thought of acting just makes him…tired.

“Do you think I should?” he asks quietly.

“I think you’d go mad if you didn’t,” Betty says. “You never did take inaction well.”

“I guess I’ll think about it. It doesn’t feel right to do nothing,” Delsin says. “I just don’t know if I have the energy for it.”

“Focus on building your life,” Betty says, gaze pointedly moving to Eugene. “From there, you can decide what you want.”

Eugene flushes and shoves a forkful of food in his mouth.

 

-.-       

 

Before they leave, Betty pulls him aside.

“You know, that tiredness you feel doesn’t always go away. You’ve been through a lot these past two years,” she says. “You don’t have to rush yourself.”

“What do you mean?” He glances towards the door where Eugene is being as obvious as he can that he’s not paying attention.

“I mean I wouldn’t be surprised if…maybe you were a little depressed,” she says, seeming to picking the words out with care.

Delsin almost jerks away because no. There’s no way. He has to be the steady one out of the four of them, a rock for them to cling to when things get tough. Betty squeezes his arm.

“Perhaps I said too much,” Betty says. “But you can slow down. Don’t dive into something because you’re afraid of the silence.”

Delsin hugs her close, an automatic reflex. “Alright. I will. Thank you Betty.”

She rubs his back and squeezes him tight. “I love you, Delsin, and if you need anything you tell me.”

“Who looks after you?” he asks as he pulls away.

“Oh I have my knitting circles ladies,” she says with a pat on his arm. “Don’t you worry.”

           

-.-

 

Delsin watches Eugene get ready for bed from his spot curled up on his side. Eugene stays in his body most the time now. Some mornings, Delsin still wakes up to find the hideout empty for hours until Eugene streams out of the monitors and fizzles into existence, but it’s not every day like it used to be. It’s hard to imagine that he could be depressed when he feels perfectly at home in his body and when he goes out to do work just fine.

Eugene yanks off his hoodie and crawls into bed in his boxers.

“What’s that look for?” he asks as he removes his glasses. His face looks pale from the light of the monitors.

“What look?” Delsin asks.

"You look upset,” Eugene says.

Delsin shrugs with the shoulder he’s not laying on. “I guess…did you hear what Betty said?”

"No, I try not to make a habit out of listening in on people unintentionally,” he says.

“Well she said that…she thinks I have depression,” Delsin says.

Eugene mauls over the words and then nods. “I guess I can see that. You do sleep a lot when you aren’t working on the house, and you don’t work in your sketchbook anymore either. You haven’t since you got back.” The ‘from prison’ goes unspoken.

“But I’m not like…”

He barely stops himself from saying ‘you’. It’s the last thing Eugene would want to hear, especially given how well he’s been doing staying in his physical form even if he rarely goes outside. He can’t act like Eugene’s issues make him broken or something, even if he is comparing himself to him.

“I don’t feel like anything,” he finishes lamely.

Eugene gives a soft, bitter, sounding laugh. “Yeah, that’s kind of how it works.”

"But I was upset about Laquan,” Delsin says.

“Yeah, and I was upset about all the shit Moya did even when I felt like blowing my brains out from how apathetic I was about everything else,” Eugene says. “Besides, it’s not like people experience this shit the same way. At least not from what I’ve read.”

Delsin’s close enough to see him flush and he can’t help his teasing smile. “Nerd.”

Eugene jabs a finger into his stomach. “Gotta teach yourself when no one bothers to teach you. You’ve got no excuse.”

“Fair, fair,” Delsin says, grabbing Eugene’s hand and then folding it and bringing it to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “Do you think I should I don’t know…see a therapist? It’s not like you guys did but that’s what people do right?”

“Might be worth it,” Eugene says. “I mean I…I don’t know how to talk about my shit to other people, but I’m good at talking myself through things. I got used to it. You’re not like that though, and honestly I’d probably be better off if I did go I’m just too…I don’t know.”

“I guess I’ll look then.” Delsin wrinkles his nose. “I never thought I’d need to.”

Eugene leans forward and presses their lips together for a quick kiss. “You’ll be okay.”

“What about you though? You know you can still talk to me right, if you need me?” He’s starting to understand why Eugene was so angry before. The thought that just because he needs to work through some things meant that Eugene would treat him like he was fragile or broken made his throat feel tight.

“Duh,” Eugene says. “It’s a partnership.”

Delsin buries his face in Eugene’s neck and let’s himself be weak, just for a moment.

 

-.-

 

Elena Kruger commands any space she’s in with an authority Delsin can only hope to have. Even in the small makeshift office she’s made in the side hallway of a friend’s law firm, she appears intimidating with her perfectly straight blonde hair, sharp pant suit, and red high heels that somehow perfectly match her lipstick and tie. Her face brightens with a smile when she sees Delsin though.

“Good to see you,” she says, walking around the small desk to give him a hug. She barely comes up to his shoulder.

“Thanks so much for coming. I knew it was a bit of a crapshoot asking you for help,” Delsin says as he sits down. “I’m just not sure how to help with this side of things.”

“It’s no problem,” Elena says. “So what brings you here? If you wanted an update on Laquan, you could’ve called.”

“Yeah, it’s actually about the others in his position,” Delsin says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah. Well, I can’t help them all Delsin,” she says. “As much as I’d like to, I don’t have the time or resources, and while this case might make it to the Supreme Court, you’d need an army of lawyers to get all of those kids out of their detention centers until a law is actually decided on either through Congress or a court case.” She frowns. “I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you.”

“What if we did have an army of lawyers?” Delsin asks. “If we had the money, the resources?”

Elena leans back in her seat, arms folding across her chest. “And where would this money come from?”

“Let me worry about that part. I think there’s some people who’d be interested in fronting the money. Would you be able organize something like that and get those kids out?” Delsin asks.

“It’d be possible, at least legally speaking. We’d need some way to deal with the threat that they pose though, or there’s no way we’d be able to make it work. National security will always take precedent over human rights.” She shakes her head. “You know that as well as I do.”

“They’re kids, not threats,” Delsin says.

“Kids who can blow up schools if they have a temper tantrum,” she says. “These kids can’t control themselves the way adults can.”

“Okay, so we promise to train them,” Delsin says.

“Delsin you are dreaming up this scenario that I don’t think is realistic,” Elena says with mounting frustration in her voice. She leans forward on the desk. “Look, the only way you could make this work is hire enough lawyers to handle these cases, then have enough adult Conduits vetted by the government willing to work with and train these kids to control their powers until a law is passed and if need be, disputed before the Supreme Court. Best case scenario, you’re looking at a year’s worth of funding for lawyers, housing, and care of child Conduits.”

“Do you have someone that can figure out how much that would cost? Ballpark?”

The sigh Elena gives is something more than exasperated and Delsin can’t help but grin because he knows he’s on the right track.

“Yes, I’ll look into it but I don’t want any puppy dog eyes out of you when you see the number,” she says, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Delsin puts a hand over his heart. “Scouts honor.”

“Uh huh.”

 

-.-

 

Looking into therapists is harder than looking into how to help child Conduits. One feels proactive and the other…well, Delsin’s by entirely sure what it feels like. Not good though. He ends up at the cemetery, leaning up against Reggie’s grave going through the websites of well-known celebrity therapists who wouldn’t give up his confidentiality for any amount of money on his phone. They’re all high priced of course. That just makes it worse because he could be using that money on the cause he has half formed in his mind.

Really, he just wishes he could shake himself out of it. He can’t even pin down a hard reason why he feels the way he does. He hated prison. He hated not having sunlight, hated being fed a piece of bread and some sort of mix between oatmeal and soup for every meal. Getting out had been such a relief. Everything felt better, but then his standards had fallen pretty far. Between Betty and Eugene laying it out for him though, it was obvious he needed some sort of help.

“I just wish I could talk to you,” Delsin says quietly, head resting back against the cool stone. “I wish you knew how much I’ve changed. What I’ve done. I wish you could tell me you were proud.”

He tugs his knees closer to his chest and buries his face in the folded crease of his arms. Most days, he doesn’t think about Reggie. Lately though, he’s been thinking more and more about how he’d still be alive if he’d just listened for two seconds and been a little more cautious. More than anything, he wants Reggie to guide him. Reggie had been more of a parent than a brother in a lot of ways after their parents died. In a way, that’s part of why Delsin resented him. He wanted a brother, not a parent. But Reggie had just done what he did best; shouldered responsibility.

Which…maybe he was supposed to be more like Reggie now. Protect people. Help them. Be responsible when the government wasn’t. He could start something with Elena. He knows he can, but he can’t just have money come from nowhere even though Eugene could make that happen, at least not if he wants to do this legitimately. He groans.

“Reggie, I’m not good at this stuff. I need you,” he says.

The words don’t bring Reggie back and they don’t make him feel all that better either.

 

-.-

 

Delsin crawls into bed late. Eugene rolls over in his sleep and spoons up behind him, nose smashing up against the back of Delsin’s neck. It’s not as comforting as it usually is. His mind spins too fast, especially given how those thoughts aren’t manifesting into many actions. Elena had gotten him the number needed to get off the ground and running for what he wanted just before he got back and he’d given up on making it a reality. He’d never been much of a planner anyways. All he’d ever done was spin his wheels and gone nowhere, and now he was watching the same thing happen again.

He gets out of bed a few hours later and sits down in Eugene’s computer chair. It’s a quick flick of his wrist to absorb the data and then he lets himself sink into it. He’s not proficient the way Eugene is. Eugene can surf across an entire country, farther if he wanted to probably, but data has always been hard for Delsin to maintain control over, especially when flowing between satellites. He’s not sure what he’s looking for. Something. Anything. An answer to his problems. He just wants something to go right.

He falls into the screen and tumbles out into some sort of office, crashing headfirst into a chair. He manages to get himself onto his feet by the time the light clicks on, and by then he’s just staring like a deer in the headlights at the owner of the place he’s accidentally stumbled into.

“Delsin Rowe, right?” the man says. He’s completely unrecognizable. His height is even with Delsin’s, but his form is more filled out with muscles that strain against his plain white t-shirt. He has a deep tan, the shadow of a beard on his face and thick black hair the falls in a casual mess to his shoulders.

"I am _so_ sorry,” Delsin says. “I try not to show up in people’s houses when I know them let alone when I don’t so uh…whoops.”

“It’s fine. Miguel Hernandez,” he says, holding out his hand for Delsin to shake. “I paid the legal fees for you, Abigail, and Lucy.”

“I uh…” Delsin laughs, eyes darting around the room. “Didn’t know. Elena never said.”

“I asked her not to. Come on, sit,” Miguel says, guiding him towards the couch on the other side of the office.

Delsin does so, not sure what else to do as Miguel sits in the computer chair across from him.

“I’m a Conduit myself,” Miguel says, opening the desk drawer and pulling out a bottle of scotch and two shot glasses. “I control electricity, though it’s thankfully not so strong that I have to refrain from being inside or touching most objects.”

“Like Cole?” Delsin asks. He accepts the glass when it’s handed to him, knocking it back fast.

“Exactly,” Miguel says. “For obvious reasons, I’ve chosen to try and remain under the radar.”

“Were you in Curdun Cay?” Delsin asks. It’s hard to imagine someone so together coming out of that concrete hell, but then Miguel was older than anyone else Delsin knew who came out of there.

“For a time,” Miguel says. “My family sued the DUP and the government for $500,000,000 in damages shortly after Seattle. They’re very wealthy thanks to my business you see, and wealth like that makes the courts listen when they wouldn’t otherwise.”

“Yeah, no one else got anything,” Delsin says with a hint of bitterness.

“Money buys influenced. I just played the game,” Miguel says. He doesn’t sound sorry.

“I’m not big on using the system but now…I guess I don’t have a choice,” Delsin says with a strained smile. “One fuck up and it’s back to jail for me and I’m not sure your money could protect me from that.”

Miguel laughs. “Probably not, no. So what happy accident brings you tumbling through my computer screen in the middle of the night?”

“Just an accident, really,” Delsin says, relaxing a little. “I was trying to find some answers and ended up here. I can’t really control this power all that well, at least not as well as smoke.”

“I see. Well, you ended up here. There must be a reason,” Miguel says. “What answers were you looking for?”

Delsin hesitates. This isn’t exactly what he’d been planning to do at all. “You seen the news lately?” It can’t hurt to bring it up, especially when the guy is apparently loaded with cash.

“You helped save that boy who blew up the gym,” Miguel says, tone even.

“Laquan, yeah,” Delsin says. “And I want to do more stuff like that. Those cops are just waiting for a reason to shoot those kids, especially black kids and native kids. They need someone in between them to keep the kids safe and the cops too. When you’re scared like that anything could happen and they’re just throwing them in prison like that solves the problem.”

“That’s why Elena is involved now, correct?” Miguel asks.

“Right, but there’s no one advocating for the fifty other odd kids locked up,” Delsin says. “So I thought I could do something, start a charity, but then Elena got me the numbers for how much that would cost and what I’d need and I…I don’t know what I was thinking.” The words tumble out of him and he wants to stop them because he just met this guy and now he’s making a fool of himself begging for money. “I’m a high school drop out that worked on the rez in a shitty convenience store to pay for food and vandalized my brother’s accomplishments. People like me don’t do shit like this. We don’t know how.”

“And scrawny Hispanic kids from Oakland don’t start tech companies and make millions, but here I am,” Miguel says. “Maybe your powers took you to the right place after all.”

“Huh?”

“I run a business, have lots of money, care about Conduits…charity work always looks good for a brand,” Miguel says. “How much do you need?”

“Even if I had the money, I still don’t know what I’m doing,” Delsin says as his heart begins to pound.

“And I do. I’m forty years old. I’m ancient compared to most of Silicon Valley and it isn’t long before I’m dethroned by some snarky young teen who’s decent with code,” Miguel says. “I need something to do when that happens. Mentoring you seems nice and running a charity seems nicer. It’s not the same kind of game I usually play.”

“It can’t be that easy,” Delsin says, giddiness giving way to comforting numbness.

“What do you mean?”

“People don’t just…give away this much money,” Delsin says. “You don’t even know me.”

"I know you risked going to prison for the rest of your life by confronting the cops and going into a burning building to save a child,” Miguel says. “I know you risked the same thing to bring the truth to the people. Why wouldn’t I want to help someone like that who’s dreams are the same as mine?”

“It’s just…a lot,” Delsin says.

“Think it over,” Miguel says, getting to his feet. “The offer is there, and I have a feeling your mind and your powers brought you here of all places for a reason. It can’t have been an accident.”

“Never really believed in fate to be honest,” Delsin says.

Miguel shrugs and opens the drawer to put the scotch away and then pulls out a card to hand to Delsin. “My direct line. Have a good night Delsin.”

He leaves before Delsin can manage a response.

 

-.-

 

It takes a few tries but he ends up back home eventually. He tumbles into bed and passes out within minutes, the strain of traveling hundreds of miles too much for his body. When he wakes up, his pillow is soaked in sweat and the bed is empty. He lifts his head up, hand flailing out to the side to grab his phone. It’s 11:00 AM. He hasn’t slept past eight since Seattle.

Jolting upright makes his head spin and he almost falls out of bed as he waits for his vision to balance back out. Eugene emerges from the shower, naked except for the towel he’s drying his hair with.

“Hey,” Eugene says. There’s a guarded look in his eyes that becomes even more obvious when he grabs his glasses off the dresser and puts them on. “Texted Tyrone for you so he wouldn’t ask where you were at. Said you were up all night throwing up.”

“Conduits don’t get sick,” Delsin says.

“He doesn’t know that,” Eugene says. “I checked to make sure you were safe where you ended up, but I gave you your privacy after.”

Delsin tilts his head to the side. “So why do you look so pissed?”

“Just…you were more open with that guy than you have been with me,” Eugene says.

“I thought you didn’t listen in.”

“I caught a little bit when I first found you. It’s just me being irrational. I shouldn’t expect you to feel like you can tell me everything, I know that but I don’t know I’m just possessive or-“

As he speaks, Delsin crawls out of bed and walks over to him, covering Eugene’s mouth with his hand.

“I get it. It’s okay,” Delsin says. “You know I would’ve told you first thing after I got up.”

“I know.” Eugene’s nose wrinkles. “Sorry.”

“I _am_ your only friend outside of Fetch and Kuo,” Delsin says, choosing his words carefully. “That…might be why.”

Eugene flushes, straight up from his chest and into his cheeks. “I…yeah.”

“Look, Miguel is a Conduit,” Delsin says. “We’re going to be working with people who like Conduits. You won’t have to hide and maybe you’ll like some of them.”

Eugene looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, maybe.”

Delsin kisses his forehead. “I’ve gotta talk to Elena. You wanna come with me?”

“Sure, we can do that,” Eugene says.

Delsin smiles.

 

-.-

 

Elena spends a lot of time looking at Eugene while they talk and go over the paperwork to establish the organization. Apparently, Miguel had called her that morning and said he’d front the money so now it was just a matter of deciding on a name for the organization and starting to file paperwork. Eugene keeps his head down as they work, but Elena’s attention never wavers.

“Is there a way for me not to be heavily involved in this part?” Delsin asks. “Like, I’m good at talking, not business. If we end up doing the mentoring thing, I’d love to do that but the numbers part is…”

“No one in their right mind would want you to be managing the business side of things anyways,” Elena says with a teasing note in her voice. “You’ll function best as a speaker and organizer, but we’ll make sure you still have decision making power.”

Delsin signs another page when Elena points. “Is that it? Please tell me it is.”     

“You’re free for now,” she says. “Miguel and I will handle the filing and I’ll start reaching out to lawyers who I know can handle cases like this.”

“You’re a life saver, thank you,” Delsin says.

“Don’t thank me yet. You’re going to be putting in the legwork for public approval,” she says with a raised eyebrow. “Now onto other business. Eugene, right?”

Eugene nods. “Yeah.”

“Not Eugene Sims, son of Representative Sims, right?” she asks.

Eugene stiffens and before Delsin can say anything, Eugene’s dissolved into pixels and vanishes through Elena’s laptop monitor. He groans and puts his head in his hands. It was hardly how Delsin wanted this to go.

"So I take it that’s a yes,” she says.

“You didn’t have to confront him like that,” Delsin says, unable to stop the frustration in his voice. “It’s hard enough to get him to come out in public as is.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting such a negative reaction,” she says. Anyone else, and Delsin wouldn’t take it seriously, but Elena rarely apologized.

“Just…don’t tell anyone. I’ll talk to him,” Delsin says. “He’s not really ready for the public spotlight. I don’t know if he ever will be.”

“Delsin, if I was able to figure it out that fast, so will other people. Maybe he _shouldn’t_ be in public,” she says.

“How did you even know?” he asks. He trusts Elena. Still, he knows Eugene worked hard to erase himself from the DUP servers so the fact that she’d just known was disturbing on some level.

“He thinks like a hacker,” she says. “He deleted his data but he didn’t replace it with anything. There’s hundreds of accounts of Conduits being tortured and trained by digital apparitions, but no Conduit to tie that power to. The only one on record with those powers was Representative Sims’ son, and even without his records being anywhere in the DUP servers, it’s not that hard to put two and two together.”

“Fuck…”

“A low profile would be best,” she says. “At the very least he shouldn’t reveal he’s a Conduit.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he says. “I need to go find him. I was the one that told him getting out would be a good idea so he’s probably pissed.”

“I’m sorry,” Elena says again, frowning. “Please tell him I said that.”

Delsin gets to his feet. “Yeah, sure.”

 

-.-

 

Eugene’s playing Heaven’s Hellfire when Delsin gets back and he doesn’t look up when Delsin gets back. That seems fair in Delsin’s book. After all, he’d pressured Eugene and it’d gone straight to shit.

“Hey,” Delsin says, leaning over the computer chair. He presses a kiss to Eugene’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I talked to Elena though. She’s not about to go running to the press and tell them about you or anything. She wouldn’t.”

Eugene swipes at his eyes and Delsin sighs before reaching over and pausing the game with the keyboard before wiping Eugene’s tears away.

"Fuck I’m emotional,” Eugene says, voice tired. “I know you’re right I just…I’m never going to be able to be in the real world if it’s that easy for someone knowledgeable about this shit to figure out.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Delsin says. He keeps his arms wrapped around Eugene and rests his chin on top of Eugene’s head. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to have to stay down here and avoid people.”

“I know,” Eugene says. “I don’t _want_ to stay down here I’m just scared of…a lot.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Delsin says. “I promise.”

           

-.-

 

In the end, it’s Miguel who helps him find a therapist. Apparently being rich and wealthy gives someone a lot of connections and resources even as a Conduit. Delsin leaves the house for Tyrone and the rest to put finishing touches on the next afternoon and drives back into Seattle. The office is as non-descript as Miguel promised. He ducks down several alleyways and knocks on a locked door with one small window in the middle and gives his name and appointment time to be let in.

The office itself is well lit and the receptionist, Anne, guides him through hallways with colorful murals on the walls of the skyline and various tourist spots. Anne stops at a door, gives him a warm smile, and opens it to let him in. He gives a quick thanks and heads inside. The office is cozy, lit by warm light instead of the fluorescent lights that make him feel jumpy now. There’s a small desk off to the side with a computer, but the therapist, Dr. Brown, sits in a chair some distance from it by the window.

Dr. Brown is a tall woman, broad shouldered with blonde hair and a delicate looking face. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a sweater with a notepad sitting on her crossed legs. Her smile is just as warm as Anne’s.

“Delsin, come in,” she says. “Have a seat.”

He does so, a little stiffly. He hasn’t felt this out of place in a long time. “Hi.”

“Don’t look so scared. This isn’t an interrogation,” Dr. Brown says. “We’ll just be going over what you want to accomplish during our time together.”

"Be not sad?” Delsin says with an awkward smile.

“Alright, fair enough,” she says with a laugh. “Let’s go over what you’re dealing with. If you were to list out what your biggest struggles were, what would you say?”

Delsin looks down at his lap as he thinks. “Well my boyfriend says I sleep a lot, at least ever since I got back from prison.”

“You were in solitary, correct? All eight months?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Delsin says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Did you do a lot of sleeping then?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Delsin says. “Dreams were better than boredom.”

Dr. Brown scribbles something down. “So how much do you say you sleep now?”

“Well I’m helping build some houses for me and my girl…my uh, friend, Fetch?” He stumbles over the words, expecting some sort of judgement but Dr. Brown looks perfectly neutral. “So that keeps me pretty busy. The rest of the time I sleep a lot.”

“What did you used to do?” Dr. Brown asks. “Is this a new development?”

“I guess so, yeah,” Delsin says. “I used to do some work with Betty at the reservation and some art stuff. When I was younger I’d thought about maybe doing some tattoo design stuff but I haven’t thought about that in a while, just kept up with the art you know? And now I’m involved with this charity thing but I’m a little worried I’ll lose my drive part way through or something. It’s like I’m forcing myself to do things I know I want to do I just…don’t right now. Fuck that didn’t make sense.”

“No, it did,” Dr. Brown says. “Really, what you’re describing isn’t uncommon. A lack of interest is what causes so much of the trouble when dealing with depression. The good news is, you’re doing something I often recommend my patients do which is to keep doing the things they know they enjoy even if they don’t get the same enjoyment out of it as they are used to getting. However, there is a chance that in this case you’re putting too much on your plate at once.”

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head with a strained smile. “Reggie would love that I finally got my act together and was choosing to be productive for once.”

“There’s productive and there’s doing things so that you don’t ever have to stop,” she says. “It’s something we all do. We find some way to avoid the problems we’re afraid of confronting.”

Delsin frowns, mulling over the words. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again as he thinks, because he isn’t avoiding anything, not really. There aren’t any problems in his life, outside the whole part where he doesn’t have any motivation and he’s facing that one pretty head on. It wasn’t like he was in denial or anything. “I don’t know what I’m running from.”

“We usually don’t,” she says. “Not at first. When we realize what it was, it seems quite obvious.”

"I just mean…it’s not Reggie’s death,” Delsin says. “I…dealt with that a long time ago, I thought. I know it wasn’t really my fault, even if some nights it feels like it is, so it’s not like there’s any sort of unresolved whatever going on there. I worry about Eu…Eugene.” He flushes again. “He’s my boyfriend. He’s been through some stuff, especially lately, and I know I fuss over him more than he wants but we’re working through that too. We’re not avoiding it. I don’t know what else I could be running from.”

“I noticed we moved pretty quickly away from your stay in prison,” Dr. Brown says. She doesn’t say it as a confrontation, just a fact.

It makes something like panic tighten his chest and he looks back down at his lap. “There isn’t really much to talk about there either.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing happened,” he says, frustration he hadn’t even known was there bleeding into his voice. “It wasn’t like Kuo where they’re pissing in her food every day or what Fetch went through in Curdun Cay. It was just…nothing. I sat around and didn’t do anything. No one was mean to me, no one tortured me, there’s nothing there to be upset about. I went in there for a reason and a purpose and I accomplished what I wanted.” He shuts his mouth the next second, inhaling quick through his nose. “I don’t know.”

Dr. Brown doesn’t say anything for a moment, and it doesn’t last long but Delsin’s pretty sure his heart has beat a thousand times before she speaks again.

“Solitary confinement is a form of torture,” she says, tone frank. “It does something to the brain. Many people who are in prolonged solitary confinement find themselves plagued with hallucinations and paranoia as well as deep bouts of depression throughout their lives. In fact, there’s currently a study of some of the prisoners released from Curdun Cay to see if Conduits experience these things as strongly or differently.”

“I don’t have any of those things though,” Delsin says. “I’m not hallucinating and I’m not paranoid either. I mean, Jeeze, I went into a burning building to stop a kid from getting shot and I didn’t kick the damn racist cop in the process. I’d say that’s a considerable amount of restraint given what I could do.”

“I’m not saying you are exhibiting all of those symptoms,” she says, voice calm. “I’m trying to show you that solitary confinement does have very real effects on the human mind. There are of course differences. You do have healing abilities like all other Conduits, so any damage you might’ve undergone would have been minimized. I just want you to understand that all trauma doesn’t have to be something sudden. Trauma can happen over time. It doesn’t have to be a singular event.”

Delsin wants to argue, not that she’s wrong, just that she’s wrong about him. He’s not traumatized. He knows what that looks like and he’s not it. But…he’s not a therapist. Just because he knows what it looks like with Eugene and Fetch and Kuo doesn’t mean it’s always like that, and it was different between the three of them too.

“I guess I…don’t want to _be_ traumatized,” he says after a moment.

“No one does,” she says, offering him a small smile. “And I’m not saying that you are necessarily, but given your experiences it wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility. I think it’s something we should continue to have discussions about if that’s something you’re comfortable with because you shouldn’t have to figure it out on your own. No one should have to.”

Delsin wonders if anyone ever told Eugene that.

 

-.-

 

Their houses get finished three weeks later and the next day, Elena successfully secures Laquan’s freedom from prison and returns him to his parents’ custody until the matter is sorted out in a higher court. Delsin is relieved, of course, and comforted by the fact that Miguel and Elena’s team were working behind the scenes to see if they could do the same for all the rest of the Conduit children. Still, it doesn’t fill him with the elation he’d felt whenever he saved even one person from the violence in Seattle.

He’s starting to think that maybe there’s something to what Dr. Brown had been trying to tell him.

“You’ve got your thinking face on,” Eugene says.

Delsin looks up from his book. Eugene’s curled up on the other end of the couch with his laptop, fingers poised above the keyboard with his gaze on Delsin.

"Just…things are coming together,” Delsin says. “And I’m not happy. I’m not really anything.”

Eugene frowns and sets his laptop aside before crawling across the couch so he can sit closer. Delsin goes to tug him to his chest, but Eugene beats him to it by wrapping an arm around Delsin’s shoulders and pulling him in, warm and secure. He relaxes into it, eyes sliding shut. Usually it’s the other way around, him holding Eugene. This is nice.

“You’ll be okay,” Eugene says. “Apathy is a hell of a drug.”

"What do you mean? You always cared, even if you weren’t out at the forefront of everything,” Delsin says.

“Not right after though,” Eugene says. “After the adrenaline wore off…I didn’t know what to do. But I had you.”

Delsin mulls the words over. “I guess it’s sort of the same thing then. Prison, then building the houses, then Laquan and Miguel and Elena…it’s just been one thing after another and now the adrenaline is leaving.” _And I’m empty._

“You’re done running.” Eugene kisses the top of his head. “But you’ll be okay. I’m here. I’m always going to be.”


End file.
